


Something's Haunting You

by foldingcranes



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Cabin Fic, Canonical Character Death, Depression, M/M, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shiver Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Suicidal Thoughts, ice ice baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 14:45:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17163929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foldingcranes/pseuds/foldingcranes
Summary: When Jack stopped at the sleepy, snowy German town near the mountains, he didn’t think anything weird about it: it was small and picturesque, streets and houses covered in snow and people dealing with it as in any other winter. It seemed like a quiet place.Then, the man at the tavern told him about the hauntings.





	Something's Haunting You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jara257](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jara257/gifts).



> Happy Holidays Jara!!! I hope you enjoy your gift.

The tavern was too poorly lit for Jack’s damaged eyesight, but it was the nearest place to get a drink and maybe, hopefully, a place to spend the night. He wouldn’t normally worry so much about shelter, but even Jack didn’t feel like dying of hypothermia in the upcoming snowstorm. He’d offer to help with a few bartending shifts or do some dishes in exchange for some cheap whiskey and a couch. It rarely failed: there was something deeply pitiful about Jack that pushed people into considering him a charity case. Something about his gaunt face, unkempt beard, bloodshot eyes, and bony elbows. He had a reddened nose now, the brand of an experienced alcoholic. Three years on the run, three years without a home and Jack already looked the part of a homeless man.   
  
Well, it wasn’t like that was off the mark.   
  
There weren’t many people at the moment, no, most of the men in the town were smarter than to risk getting trapped in a snowstorm just because they felt like having a drink out of their homes. His hands shook as soon as he sat at the bar, staring at the glass of bourbon the bartender was pouring for another patron. Blurry eyes and all, Jack followed the movements intently, dipped a hand into his pocket and dug out his last bill so he could ask for a drink.   
  
Just the first sips burned his tongue and helped him feel warmer. Jack closed his eyes, savoring the feeling. He didn’t get to feel warm a lot these days. He guessed it showed, because the man who sat next to him, leaned towards him and coughed before saying,   
  
“You look like you need a place for the night.”

  
  


****

  
  
When Jack stopped at the sleepy, snowy German town near the mountains, he didn’t think anything weird about it: it was small and picturesque, streets and houses covered in snow and people dealing with it as in any other winter. It seemed like a quiet place.   
  
Then, the man at the tavern told him about the hauntings.   
  
“People have been disappearing,” he said, voice low under the dim lights, a frown etched on his young face. “On the outskirts of the town… they just vanish. Then, their frozen corpses are found abandoned in the snow. They look like they’re sleeping.”   
  
There was a respectful beat of silence before Jack dared to speak. “Why are you telling me this?”   
  
“I see the way you carry yourself,” the man said. “I’ve been watching you since you entered the town. I want you to keep watch. Maybe find what’s killing these people.”   
  
“Yeah?” Jack asked, between sips of his drinks. His glass was almost empty. “And what’s in it for me?”   
  
“I have a house. My family’s home. It’s right outside the town. You can stay there, you’ll have everything you need. There’s even food,” the man said, with a knowing look. Jack shifted in his seat, tried to hide under his ratty coat, tucking his thin fingers in his pockets.   
  
“I could pay you if you want, money’s not an issue—”   
  
“No, it’s fine,” Jack cut him. “I’ll stay at your house. Keep an eye on the town. But I’ll be gone once the snowstorm ends.”   
  
The man smiled, grateful. He got up from his seat and gestured at the door. “Follow me.”

 

****

  
  
The house was old and big, built in a perfectly sensible Upper Lusatian style, all white, red and brown, high roofs covered in snow. It reminded Jack of Switzerland.   
  
The man had given his keys to Jack without showing any sort of concern, assuming that Jack would do as he asked. He wondered if that excess of trust came from living such a calm, peaceful life. According to what Jack remembered from Reinhardt’s stories, this town had been one of the few places in Germany untouched by the Omnic Crisis. Jack shook off the snow before entering, careful to wipe his feet on the welcome mat as to not dirty the floor. Then, he quickly removed his boots, feeling the cold wooden floor under his feet and decided to look for a fireplace before doing anything else. Starting a gentle fire sounded more comforting than he wanted to admit. The house was old and creaky, full of dust, and yet, it was the most luxurious place Jack had inhabited in the last couple of years.   
  
He tried not to think about it. He didn’t have a home, but he didn’t exactly feel like a homeless person. Calling himself homeless would have felt like Jack was impersonating someone, stealing things that didn’t belong to him and accepting help because his current lifestyle felt like robbing from those that really needed it. Jack, actually, felt like a fake: he had had a choice. Other people didn’t have choices.   
  
He came to really know hunger, yes. He came to know sickness and the cruelness of sleeping on the streets. But he was where he was because he had decided it, not because he lacked any other choices. It was all about the choices he made. And Jack made the choice to live. He was pretty much aware of the fact that he had nothing and lacked any sort of motivation to keep living. Yet, whenever he reconsidered, his thoughts strayed back to two simple points: his faith didn’t quite approve of the idea of him sacrificing his own life. It was all about living, despite all the shit that got thrown his way.   
  
Also, he deserved to suck it up and live with the consequences of his incompetence. So.   
  
(He had tried before. Right after the explosion. A broken bottle. Horse tranquilizers. The SEP had patched him up pretty quickly and, eventually, he gave it a rest.)

Jack blinked, realizing he had spaced out. He had been doing that a lot, these days. Maybe it was something about the holidays, something about all that annoying holiday cheer making him nostalgic for things he didn’t have anymore. When he was married, his husband used to be really into any sort of festivity. Anything seemed like a valid excuse for a feast. Especially Halloween and Día de Los Muertos. Gabriel had gotten it from his family because they had loved huge get-togethers where they got to see the entire extended family. They loved long tables covered in all sorts of dishes and children running around the place. He still remembered the menorah Gabriel’s parents got for him the first time they spent the holidays with Gabriel’s family.

They had been sweet. And welcoming. With wide, open hearts.

Jack had felt like, instead of having to carve himself a place, space had been created for him. Just because he had been  _ that _ loved.

But that time was long gone. And Jack needed to find logs for the fire and the cellar the owner of this house had mentioned after they left the tavern. There was only wine there, apparently, but Jack wasn’t going to be picky now.

Once Jack found the cellar and managed to start a fire, he laid down on the fuzzy rug in front of the fireplace, ignoring the couch and the chairs, and drank wine until he felt like he could have a few decent hours of sleep.

  
  


****

  
  


Jack woke up cold. He tried to blink the sleepiness away, only to find out that his eyelashes were crusty with little bits of ice. He exhaled, and his breath came out like fog, humid and chilly. The fire had extinguished long ago, but there still were unburnt logs in the fireplace, which made Jack frown with confusion. Even the tips of his fingers hurt from the cold, reddened and numb.

Then, as Jack stood, he felt a strong wind. The windows and doors were closed. He hadn’t opened any of them when he got there. And yet.

And yet, all of a sudden, the coldness that enveloped him didn’t feel normal. And he didn’t feel like he was alone anymore.

Jack shook his head, scoffing. The ghost stories were getting into his head. He had never believed in ghosts. And if he had believed, he wouldn’t feel afraid.

There were scarier, more painful things than ghosts.   
  


The next morning, the windows were frozen. Jack chose to spend the rest of the night in one of the guest rooms and only the windows in that room were completely frozen. It took a while for Jack to get rid of the ice and by the time he finished, he stomach grumbled with discomfort. He didn’t remember the last time he had eaten.

The kitchen was cold, but Jack didn’t have the energy to try and start another fire. He opened the pantry and, not feeling like cooking, grabbed a loaf of old bread and cut it into a couple of slices. Trying to chew it was like eating stale MREs, the kind that were years old enough to turn into hard blocks. His teeth hurt after two slices and he told himself he had had enough, anyway.

The snowstorm was starting to gain momentum, outside. Jack sat at the kitchen table and looked at the snow through the window, trying not to think too hard. Trying not to think of the snowy Zurich base during the winter and of snowball fights with Ana and Fareeha. Trying not to think about the holidays at Torbjorn’s place, surrounded by the laughter of children. Trying not to think about Reinhardt and cheery old songs. Trying not to think about Gabriel, staring at the mailbox until he finally got the fruitcake his grandma had made and sent to them from the other side of the world.

Trying not to think. At all.

  
  


****

  
  


Jack slept the days away.

He’d wake up at some time during the morning, go to the kitchen for a slice of bread or dried fruit and fetch a bottle of wine from the cellar before making his way back to the room he had claimed. Then, he’d drink until he fell asleep again. Simple and easy. It almost felt like a vacation.

There was, still, the eerie feeling of not being alone in that house. It was creeping upon him, slowly, making him check over his shoulder every time he left the room. His windows kept freezing. Sometimes, he’d feel cold air over his neck or he’d wake up with frost in his hair and eyelashes.

Sometimes he’d be awake enough to actually fulfill his part of the deal with the owner of the house and he’d get up, get as appropriately dressed as possible and venture out into the snowstorm to see if new dead bodies had turned up. Jack did this with a weird sense of detachment, not thinking too much about the possible human losses.

Once or twice, he found dead animals. A bird and a deer, completely frozen. Blue to the last bit. Like ice sculptures.

This, too, Jack observed with a calm numbness that didn’t use to belong to him.

 

****

 

There were footprints in the snow. Huge human footprints. Shaped like boots.

Jack frowned, holding closer onto his coat. The snowstorm continued, stronger than before and blocking him from going further. When he finally tore his eyes away from the offending snow, he looked up to the streets, only to see a dark shadow standing tall between them. Jack raised his hand and rubbed at his eyes. He had been using prescription glasses for a couple of years before life as he knew it ended and the explosion had only made his eyesight worse so, sometimes, it was hard to distinguish certain shapes.

As he looked again, he could have sworn he had seen a man.

 

****

 

At some point during the morning, Jack woke up to the sound of incessant knocking. The snowstorm hadn’t ended yet. No one could be out there.

And yet, the knocking persisted.

Already alert, Jack left the bed and got dressed quickly, grabbing the only gun he carried with him before making his way downstairs. Once he reached the hall of the house, the door opened on its own, letting the snow in, quickly covering everything in white.

“Who’s there?” Jack grunted. The windows shook. The wind made strong, angry noises. The entire house starting shaking as Jack stood in front of the open door.

“Who’s there?!” He shouted this time. Suddenly, everything went quiet. Even the wind.

There was the sound of footsteps.

Jack turned, only for a cloaked figure to grab him by the neck and hold him against the wall. His cold hand turned into ice against the fragile skin of Jack’s neck, burning him as he struggled to breathe.

“Mmm,” the man said, his voice rough and chilling, just like the rest of him. “You’ll do.”

He pressed Jack harder against the wall, leaning closer to Jack’s face, watching him. He wore a bone white mask and his eyes were a deep blue that looked almost black in the dark. His grip on Jack was too strong for him to try anything else.

And that’s when Jack realized it.

This was it.

This was going to be his end.

His gun had clattered to the floor the moment the stranger had grabbed him. He could feel the little warmth in his body leave him slowly, abandoning him for the stranger. His vision went even blurrier.

Jack thought of going home. He thought of seeing Ana again, eyes tearing up with the lack of air and the pain of being strangled. He thought of telling her how much he missed her. How much he had needed her all these years that she had been gone. How sorry he was for getting her killed.

He thought about Gabe and, despite the pain, despite the lack of air and the fear, that brought a smile to Jack’s face. Seeing Gabe again would be… it would make everything worthwhile. He could almost imagine it: Gabriel, arms wide open, waiting for him at the door of their old home, a huge smile on his face.  _ So _ , he’d say, as casually as possible _ , you finally kicked the bucket, uh? _

Jack closed his eyes and let the darkness take hold over him, picturing the warm light of a candle.

  
  


****

 

The first thing Jack noticed upon waking up was the crackling of the fire, then the softness of the rug under his naked skin. There was a blanket on top of him, thick and heavy, knitted with particularly itchy wool. It wasn’t the one he always carried with him, no, Jack’s blanket was worn and soft with use, as it had been given to him decades ago, when he was in his early twenties. It had been a present from his husband’s grandmother.

This one smelled like dust and humidness, and it made Jack sneeze, finally prompting him to get up. Only then he asked himself how he ended up there and why wasn’t he, well, dead.

“You owe me an explanation,” a voice said from the chair at the other corner of the room, the one nearest to the fireplace. “A really good one.”

Jack almost jumped out of his skin, covering himself with the blanket, feeling angry at having been undressed and laid there by a stranger, vulnerable and weak.

“Who are you?” He hissed. “What are you doing here? What do you want from me?”

_ Why didn’t you kill me? _

“Why do you need to know that?” The stranger asked, only making Jack angrier.

“You came here to kill me and then didn’t do it,” Jack pointed out. “You started a fire, took my clothes and just… sat there like a goddamn creeper, watching me. Why?”

The stranger mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like  _ fucking pain in my ass _ . Jack sat straighter as he moved, wary of his movements. The stranger lifted a hand towards his mask and then he...

_ He-- _

The mask was gone. And in front of him, stood a man he thought he would never see again. Not while he still lived. Jack’s heart started beating so fast he thought it would give up at any minute, splitting open his ribcage in one final, explosive heartbeat. His body went cold despite the warmth of the fire and he felt his legs and hands go weak, his entire body shaking.

“Gabriel?” Jack asked in a hoarse, barely contained whisper. Gabriel walked towards him and crouched next to Jack, watching him. He wasn’t the same. He was cold, so much that the air surrounding him was frigid enough to make Jack shiver. His eyes were darker than ever before and his lips were an unsettling blue. Trembling, Jack lifted a hand towards his face, touching Gabriel’s beard with the tip of his fingers. It was freezing.

Jack didn’t care. As soon as he touched Gabriel, the spell was broken. He threw himself at him, looping his arms around Gabriel’s neck and clinging to him as if he were to disappear at any moment. As if this were just another dream. Jack held firmly, burning from the cold coming out from Gabriel’s body, tears freezing on his cheeks as he laughed hysterically. Carefully, Gabriel held him back. He didn’t say anything.

They stayed that way until Jack seemed to melt into Gabriel’s arms, lips blue and skin pale. “You fucking idiot,” Gabriel hissed, pushing Jack back until he was lying on the rug again. “Do you have a death wish? I’m going to end up killing you.”

“How?” Jack said, uncaring. His hand searched for Gabriel’s and he held it, lacing their fingers together immediately. “I thought you were dead,” he croaked. Gabriel looked at him with pity.

“I was,” Gabriel explained. “At the explosion… I was wounded, no one saw my body. I froze to death. Moira found me and unfroze me. Turns out I survived thanks to her. She was with Talon and so I am, now. I need… people, to live. I need to feed from their bodies. From their warmth.”

“You’re with Talon,” Jack frowned.

“Yes,” Gabriel sighed.

“Moira did something to you.”

“Yes,” Gabriel sighed again.

Jack held his hand tighter than necessary. “I’m so fucking mad at you.”

Gabriel snorted. “Like you did any better. I thought you were dead too!”

“Fuck,” Jack sat up again, holding onto Gabriel by grabbing his arms. “Forget about me, okay? I don’t want to fight. Please. Just… I’ve missed you so much,” he said, voice breaking with emotion, to his own horror. Gabriel seemed to soften at that.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Gabriel said, voice sad. Jack leaned closer to him, resting his forehead against Gabriel’s.

“You won’t,” he said, close to Gabriel’s mouth. Jack kissed him, slow and sure and then, before he could think about it, his body was moving, hands clasping around Gabriel’s shoulders, mouth fierce and needy, aching with the need to be closer to him, mind chanting  _ I miss you I miss you I miss you _ .

Gabriel pushed back, cold lips insistent. His breath was icy but he still kissed like fire, with the intensity of someone who had something to prove. His hands went to grip Jack’s waist with enough force to bruise, eventually pushing Jack back to the rug, letting him lay there. Gabriel settled on top of him, nudging Jack’s legs apart with one thigh. Jack broke the kiss only to stare into Gabriel's beautiful, familiar eyes as he grabbed one of his hands and moved it towards his crotch. Gabriel got the message quickly, stopping to press a kiss against Jack's jaw. He huffed then, choking back laughter. 

“The beard has to go,” Gabriel said, kissing that tender spot on his neck that drove him crazy. Jack groaned, going lax under Gabriel's hard body, his naked skin in direct contact to Gabriel's armor. “I want to see your face, not stare at whatever died there and decided to stay.”

“Very funny, Jack said, trying not feel offended. “You know,” he started, grinding against Gabriel, “I have never complained about yours.”

“That's because you love my beard.”

Jack shut him up with a kiss. One of the slow, soft ones. He took a moment to stop kissing Gabriel, touching his cheek softly. His fingers turned red thanks to the frost. 

“I can't believe you are alive,” Jack said, heart beating faster, a hurricane in his belly. 

“Not alive,” Gabriel grunted. 

“Alive enough for me.”

They held each other for a long time, until Jack wrapped his legs around Gabriel, clinging onto him, trying to get closer. 

“Is your entire body cold?”

“All of me,” Gabriel replied. He shed his coat and started to remove his body armor, piece by piece, revealing how greyish his skin had become. “This is how I look now. This is what death did to me.”

Jack could make a joke about dramatics. He could brush it off and just tell Gabriel that he didn’t care about it. But the truth was that Jack had missed him more than life itself and that seeing Gabriel like this, seeing the consequences of the many things that set them apart, seeing actual proof of Gabriel’s death, saddened him deeply.

Instead, Jack sat up again, carefully. He nestled himself between Gabriel's legs. "Hey. Let me suck you off."

“You’re going to freeze.”

“Watch me,” Jack said, an almost foreign smile on his face. He helped Gabriel take off the last of his belts, then opened his pants, kissing the tip of his already hard cock, before swallowing the entire head. It was almost like sucking on a popsicle, Jack thought almost hysterically.

He heard Gabriel moan. One of his hands went to grab Jack’s hair, pulling at it every time Jack sucked, every time he licked at the underside of Gabriel’s erection teasingly.

His lips burned. His eyes teared up. His own cock ached and throbbed inside his pants. He didn’t care, Jack kept bobbing his head up and down, listening to all the noises Gabriel made. If he closed his eyes, if he ignored how cold Gabriel was, he could pretend they were in another place. In another time. Jack could close his eyes and just  _ forget _ .

Despite the longing for things that were long gone, Jack decided to stay grounded. He grabbed Gabriel’s thighs, squeezing as he sucked, firm and eager in the face of Gabriel’s pleasure. He sucked the tip just the way he knew Gabriel loved it and then he was gone, mumbling and arching his back, coming on Jack’s face.

Neither of them moved for a moment. Then, Gabriel sweetly cradled Jack’s cheek, wiping some of his come away. “You aren’t warm anymore,” he said.

“That’s okay,” Jack said, voice hoarser than before. Shivering but unconcerned since the fire in the chimney was still on, he pulled himself up and into Gabriel’s lap. “Just hold me, okay?”

“That’s all you want, uh?” Gabriel said. Jack laid his head on Gabriel’s shoulder and closed his eyes. Let Gabriel cradle him even if he was too big for that.

“No,” he said, sneaking one arm around Gabriel’s chest. “I want you to stay.”

Gabriel carded his fingers through Jack’s hair. Outside, the snowstorm didn’t show signs of stopping any time soon. “You asked me why I didn’t kill you.”

“And?”

“The truth is,” Gabriel started, swallowing. Jack could hear the hesitation in his voice. The tiredness. “The truth is that, when I was alone and freezing to death, all I could think about was holding you again.”

“And here were are,” Jack said sleepily. He felt soft. He hadn’t felt like that in years.

Gabriel kissed his temple. “And here we are.”

**Author's Note:**

> [You can find me here.](https://twitter.com/foldingcranes)


End file.
